


Masquerade

by vakarian_shepard



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, sort of? - Fandom
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Deep Web Hitman AU, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Modern AU, Modern Thedas, Multi, Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn, Texting, like really slow burn, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 07:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8391844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vakarian_shepard/pseuds/vakarian_shepard
Summary: Zevran is a deep web hitman who likes to seduce his victims before he kills them. Unfortunately, his latest target isn't into one night stands and manages to get away before he gets to poison her, though not without leaving her number.Oops.What's an assassin to do but pretend to date his victim to get close enough to kill her?





	1. Halamshiral

**Author's Note:**

> ok i know nobody reads 'origins' fic anymore but im real excited about this piece its gonna be long and great and yes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo boy here we go

> _ rhowe _
> 
> _ Your payment should be arriving any moment now. Let me reiterate—kill her without leaving any clues. Make it look like an accident if you can. The last thing I need is the cops sniffing about because they suspect foul play. _

Zevran rolled his eyes at the message. One Mr. Rendon Howe was for some reason convinced that the Crows weren’t professionals, and had taken every opportunity to talk to Zevran like he was stupid (or perhaps he was just racist—that was also possible). 

Which, maybe he was stupid, just a little, for taking such a contract.

It paid well, and that was enough motivation in most cases for just about anyone, but the problem lay in just how high profile the target was. Low-level celebrities have been targeted on occasion, and usually the Crows manage to send someone in to get the job done (he recalled quite vividly the time he’d been given the opportunity to kill a super model who had unfortunately offended the wrong person—that had been a good night). 

The problem with this particular target was that, well, technically she wasn’t exactly a _low_ -level celebrity.

Kira Cousland, adoptive daughter of Teyrn Bryce Cousland of Highever, was a rather well-known face even outside of Ferelden, if only by association. And by association, he meant that Bryce Cousland seemed to be using her to win some sort of points with “the people” because Kira has been a rather loud voice for non-human rights, in Ferelden and abroad. Or, he supposed, perhaps the Prime Minister had asked the Teyrn to use her for publicity, since he was a staunch supporter of Minister Anora, and _she_ wasn’t exactly popular enough with non-humans with an election coming up that she could sit idly by any longer.  There was also the fact that the youngest Cousland had also, within the last few years, joined the Grey Wardens, so that was an added level of High Profile added to her already very high profile-ness…

Though, he thought, looking at the case file he’d been sent and the picture of her smiling face it contained, it was a shame—as far as he could tell, she would be his first truly innocent victim. 

But, the money was good, and he still needed to eat. Whatever the case, one Mr. Rendon Howe seemed to think she deserved death, and so long as he got paid, Zevran was glad to deliver.

 

* * *

 

It was incredibly odd, Kira thought, flying under the Grey Warden crest. 

She’d flown first class loads of times, certainly, but that normally didn’t really garner stares or special treatment—at least, not enough that she’d ever noticed. Warden-Commander Clarel insisted that the Wardens of Ferelden fly stylishly, however, in some sort of tastefully uncomfortable pant suit with the Warden insignia on the breast pocket. Kira, for some reason, always expected that as a Warden she’d be expected to blend into the background as much as possible (a reason she’d joined, truth be told—she didn’t particularly enjoy the spotlight), but apparently not.

When she’d asked Duncan, he’d just shrugged and said, “If we weren’t going to be in Orlais on an invite from Clarel herself, I would have insisted that we do exactly that. But you know how Orlesians are.”

And she couldn’t really argue with that.

What she hadn’t realized was that, of the newest recruits to the Order, she was the only one who had ever been on a plane before. Nadia was positively vibrating with excitement all morning, asking so many questions that Kira felt a little disoriented trying to answer them all. She’d even woken Kira up two hours early because she was just so excited. When they boarded, she insisted on the window seat, which was fine with Kira, honestly, especially since Alistair needed to sit as far from the windows as they could get him. 

She worried for him, as he’d been pale and detached since they’d picked him up that morning. He barely responded to conversation with more than a grunt or a quiet, “Yeah,” and Kira thought he looked rather on the edge of passing out more than once. At one point, Duncan had had to poke him to get him to respond to a question, and he’d actually yelped, eyes wide with terror. Duncan had shot her a look, and Kira was left to babysit him as well as Nadia.

And by babysit, she meant slip Alistair a dose of cold medicine she kept in her bag for emergencies and hope it knocked him out before he could make himself sick with dread.

Luckily for her, it did work, and she laughed when Duncan thanked her quietly as Alistair dozed on, blissfully unaware of everything outside of his weird little pod seat.

It was evening when they began their descent into Halamshiral, and Nadia practically glued herself to the window to watch the city rise out of the clouds. Halamshiral wasn’t the great, glittering jewel that Val Royeaux was, but it did have its own personality. It felt older than the Capital—mostly from the architecture and the presence of the Winter Palace, but also from some of the old statues dotted here and there about the city.

She’d been here a few times in her 24 years—she always preferred the night life in Orlais to anything that happened in the daytime. One of her favorite memories as a child was walking along the riverside with her mother, the gently glowing streetlamp making the water shimmer as couples took boat rides up and down the river. It held a sort of magical quality all its own, in her opinion.

Her thoughts were broken as the plane touched down, and the jolting feeling of the wheels hitting the ground woke Alistair straight up. His poor, sleep addled mind apparently jumped to the worst possible conclusion because he yelped, “Oh _Maker_ , I’m too young to die!”

Nadia burst out laughing, as did several other people in the cabin, but Kira felt a little bad for him. It didn’t stop her from snickering, but she still felt bad. “Al— _Al_ , the plane is landing. We’re fine. Relax.”

He groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “I _already_ hate Orlais.”

Kira grinned. “Just wait until the ball.”

Alistair just responded a louder groan, and Kira laughed warmly when Duncan shot her a disapproving look from his seat a few rows ahead of them.

 

* * *

 

“Holy _shit_ , I’ve never seen beds this big in my _life_!” Nadia exclaimed just a moment before she took a running leap at the closest bed, flopping onto her back into the mountain of snow white pillows. She laughed breathily and continued, “Maker, do you nobles travel like this _all the time_?”

Kira hummed as she moved to the other bed and dropped her luggage onto it. “I have once or twice before, but my family isn’t exactly royalty or anything.”

“You have a castle named after you.”

“… _Touché_.”

As Kira set to unpacking—or, rather, finding her pajamas to get out of this suit as quickly as possible—Nadia reached for one of the pamphlets on the night stand between the beds. She hummed softly to herself as she read, probably making a checklist of things she wanted to see while they were here, and Kira felt the knot of travel anxiety in her stomach begin to unravel. It was only about 8 o’clock, but she was already exhausted enough to sleep. Maybe she could skip—

“What’s that?” Nadia asked suddenly. 

“What’s what?” Kira asked as she followed her friend’s gaze right to a pair of boxes sitting on the dresser. One was shaped rather like a hat box, and the other was rectangular and flat. Kira felt a familiar sort of dread as she eyed it warily, but she shrugged it off as she walked over and opened the flatter box. “Maybe they’re courtesy pajamas or somethi—oh no.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Nadia’s bare feet made a soft thud on the plush carpet as she stood and padded over to stand next to her horror-stricken friend. 

Kira pulled out the offending garment with a frown, the silky red and gold material soft as water in her hands. “This can’t be—oh _no_.”

Nadia laughed when she opened the other box and pulled out an intricate, red and black and gold masquerade mask. She held it up to her face, giggling as the horns on the mask tickled the tips of her ears. “Who sent these?”

Kira shook her head as she dropped the dress and reached for a piece of paper that had fallen out when she opened the box. It only confirmed what she assumed, and she growled under her breath. “Dammit, I’m—oh I’m calling her right now. How could she— _ugh_!” 

Kira stormed away, back towards the window with her phone raised to her ear, leaving the note on the dresser. Nadia picked it up curiously as Kira propped one hand up on her hip, rolled her eyes, and began to argue with whoever was on the other end of the phone.

_Kira_

_Have fun at the Masquerade, dear!_

_xoxo_

_—Mum_

Nadia grinned a little as Kira continued to argue with her mother.

“Mother, no, I’m—Mum, _no_! I’m a Grey Warden, Mum! I’m to go in armor and—what do you _mean_ you’ve already told Sophie I’m going to be there? Photo-op— _Mother_.” Kira paused, sighing, before sitting heavily on the bed. “You cleared it with the Commander? Which Commander? … _Duncan_? You’re kidding. Why would— _ugh_. Okay, well, I’m going to go talk to him right now. Yeah. No. Love you, too. Whatever. Bye.”

With a strangled growl, Kira threw her phone at the pillows, falling back and looking, upside down, at where her friend sat on the other bed, cross-legged and smirking, chin propped up in one of her hands. 

“Problem?” Nadia asked smugly, tilting her head.

Kira groaned, squeezing her eyes closed. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

 

* * *

 

Her mother had, in fact, been telling the truth about getting it cleared for her to _attend_ the Masquerade—as Kira Cousland of Highever, rather than Warden Cousland. Kira tried to get out of it, but Duncan just brushed her off with something about needing sponsors for new equipment or something, which was a line she was much more acquainted with than she liked.

“At least it’s a nice dress,” Nadia offered as she adjusted her armor in the hall mirror, glancing over at where Kira was still doing her hair in front of the sink.

And it _was_ a nice dress—all red and gold and satin, draped beautifully about the hips. It even had straps so she wouldn’t have to be tugging at it self-consciously all night. She actually even liked the mask that Oriana had apparently picked out for her—putting the imitation of a dragon skull on her face, even one covered with gold and black embroidery, was sure to keep at least some of the lecherous old men at bay. 

_Some_.

“And at least you get to actually participate in the masquerade,” Nadia was saying. “I’ve always thought it sounded like great fun in the stories we used to read in the Tower.”

Kira shook her head, both at Nadia and checking to make sure her hair would hold up for most of the night, so long as she didn’t try to swing dance or anything. “If I could go the rest of my life without ever stepping another foot inside the Winter Palace, that would be fantastic.”

“It might be fun,” Nadia murmured, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “And, hey, you know what? Maybe it will be like the fairy tales and you’ll meet your _true love_ tonight.”

Kira snorted. “ _Please_. I might meet a few old men looking for an anonymous tumble in the sheets, and maybe one married thirty-nine-year old, but that’s being generous. _And,_ all the women there are sure to be taken.” 

Nadia snickered as Kira brushed past her to snatch her bag off the table in the hallway, along with her mask. “You never know!” Nadia said as she opened the door for Kira, bowing and winking when Kira raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I’ll grab a mask and sweep you off your feet.”

Kira laughed. “Promise?”

 

* * *

 

Oh. 

_Oh._

_That_ was why they were here. It all made sense now, Kira realized as she listened to Clarel and Duncan talk to the reporters ahead of them. For once, Kira was glad most of her face was covered, because she probably wasn’t making a very nice face right now. Basically, from what she gathered, the entire Order of Ferelden had been invited because they had _two_ women in their ranks. Kira and Nadia were the only women Wardens other than Clarel, apparently, save for maybe a few up at Weisshaupt. They were there to attempt to put off the rumor that the Wardens discriminated against women. 

“You’d think they’d have wanted me in armor,” Kira commented dryly as she and her ‘date’ moved away from the reporters for another photo op, “considering the two of you are both mages. I’m the only non-mage woman in the Southern Order, aren’t I?”

_And that’s not even true,_ whispered a voice in the back of her mind. _Remember that thing that happened when we were 4?_

Scowling behind her mask, she almost missed it when Nadia shrugged gently and mumbled, “You’re also nobility, though, if you’ll recall.”

“Only by _name_.” 

She sighed, eyeing the end of the carpet and willing it to get shorter. She’d been on the carpet before, once or twice, and it never failed to stress her out. Too many sounds, too many lights, too many people yelling at you. The longer they took to get into the relative safety of the palace, the more grateful she became that she actually was wearing a mask. It might actually make it easier for her to blend into the background, in the dim lighting and drunken stupor most of the attendees would be suffering from within the hour. 

Yeah. She could do this. 

She could do this so long as the reporters _stopped_ asking her who she was wearing, because her mother had _conveniently_ left that part out, and every time she said, “I don’t know,” she could already hear the ribbing all the fashion shows would have to say about her in the next week. She didn’t get embarrassed _that_ easily, but it wasn’t fun, and it just made her anxiety about parties that much worse.

It was almost orgasmic, the rush of pure relief she got by finally ducking out of the eye of the public and walking into the grand entrance hall of the Winter Palace. Everything gleamed as far as the eye could see—the women, the men, the stairs, the chandeliers, the walls, the pillars— _everything_. Nadia seemed starstruck beside her, as did Alistair when she caught sight of him near the stairs, and it made Kira smile a little. 

She may hate parties with almost every fiber of her being, but watching her friends experience the grandeur of it all for the first time was actually pretty entertaining.

“You know,” Nadia said after a moment, just as Alistair walked up to join them, “I think my mother said she’d be here.”

“Really?” 

Nadia hummed. “Said she was meeting with some ambassador about something for Clan Mahariel? I dunno.”

Kira nodded thoughtfully, hooking her arms through Nadia’s and Alistair’s and leading them up the stairs. “Well, we should go look for her before the actual dinner starts.”

“We should!” Nadia agreed, laughing a little. “I think she’d like you two. Well, I mean, she’d like me bringing home any friends at all, since you know…what happened with Jowan…”

“Now that you two are as uncomfortable as I am,” Kira said after a tense beat of silence, “how about we go into the Grand Ballroom, huh? Just to get a look before everyone’s finished coming in?”

They had nearly gone through the large doors that lead to the ballroom when Nadia planted her feet firmly, eyes fixed somewhere in the Hall of Heroes. Kira and Alistair both turned to look at what she was looking at, but all Kira could see was—

“Oh, there’s my mother! With— _is that Warden Blackwall?_ Why are they—?”

Kira and Alistair both started laughing the second Warden Blackwall bent to press a kiss to Nadia’s mother’s hand, who just giggled into her hand, while Nadia herself choked on her own breath. Kira wrapped an arm around Nadia’s shoulders and leaned in close to say, “I think your mother might have lied to you about who she came here to see.”

“Papa Blackwall has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” Alistair added helpfully.

Nadia just barely bit back a shriek as she shrugged out of Kira’s grasp and made a beeline for her mother and the Warden. When Kira turned to Alistair, he had his arms crossed and was smiling rather sweetly as he watched Nadia march over to her mother. With a chuckle, Kira nudged him and said, “If he’s Papa Blackwall that means he’s gonna be your father-in-law someday and won’t _that_ be fun? I can already see the many manly man-to-man bonding trips into the forest.”

Alistair’s _entire_ face went red (including his ears and neck) as he glared down at her, which only made her laugh. “He—I don’t—that’s not _funny_!”

Kira patted his arm sympathetically. “You’re right. You had better go rescue our friend from herself, though, before she punches Orlais’s Warden-Constable in the nose.”

“And just where are _you_ going?” he asked as she turned to continue into the ballroom.

Gathering up the ends of her dress so she didn’t trip, she turned and shrugged at him. “Away. Make sure you ask her to dance at least once tonight, yeah?”

He just shot her another dirty look before walking into the Hall of Heroes after their friend. She smiled fondly after them, before turning back around and taking a deep, deep breath.

She could do this.

 

* * *

 

The ballroom was just as she remembered—grand, extravagant, drenched in gilded gold, and filled with a variety of nobles, lords, and minor and major celebrities of all sorts. It was beautiful and terrifying all at once, and she was quite glad that she didn’t actually want on the ballroom floor, because listening to the announcers call out each and every couple’s name was as embarrassing as it was annoying. If her family had been here, they would have insisted that she dance with someone, but they _weren’t_ here and she hadn’t seen her cousin Sophie anywhere yet, so hopefully she could avoid at least one traumatic, anxiety inducing event for the night.

It wasn’t that she was afraid of the spotlight, she mused as she drifted towards the refreshment table at the other end of the room. She didn’t mind the spotlight when she was at a protest or a charity event or, hell, when she was with the Wardens. 

It was just the _nobility_ that bothered her so much. Not only had they had a tendency over the years to treat her as something _other_ , they also had this nasty little habit just in general of getting away with things that ought to put them in jail. It pissed her off that some of them were still above the law because they were _rich_.

So she was glad, in a way, that her mother had forced her into this outfit. At least nobody she knew would recognize her and want to talk.

Kira drifted around the room aimlessly after that, realizing once she got to the drinks that she couldn’t actually have one without taking off her mask. She wasn’t about to give up her anonymity for some stupid wine—not here, not tonight. She watched the couples on the floor for a bit, leaning against one of the large pillars and absently picking at a loose thread on one of her gloves, eyes unfocused and mind elsewhere as the band played waltz after waltz. All she could see were the twirling colors of the dresses on the dance floor when a voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Care to dance?”

She didn’t respond at first, assuming that whoever that voice belonged to was talking to someone else. She blinked when a gloved hand waved in front of her line of sight. 

He wasn’t all that tall, was the first thing she noticed as he pulled his hand back to his side—still taller than her, but not very tall. He was wearing a mask that was meant to look like a bird’s face—black feathers and a beak over his nose making him resemble a raven, or perhaps a crow. White teeth flashed against warm brown skin as he smiled at her, eyes gleaming a shocking gold in the low light. 

Inclining his head so that a some of his long blond hair fell over his shoulders, the stranger continued, “Forgive me, my dear, I did not mean to disturb you. It is just, I saw you from across the way and thought you looked so beautiful and, well…would you care for a dance?”

Flattered though she was, and as much as she was sure his face was probably quite handsome under that mask, she shook her head anyway. “Not really the dancing type, I’m afraid. Sorry.” 

His eyes fell a little and he nodded once, turning to take his leave with a quiet, “As you wish. Good evening.”

“I’m impressed,” Kira heard herself say, the words bypassing her brain entirely as they fell out of her mouth. _Wait, what—?_ “The mask has been doing a pretty good job of keeping away suitors so far.” He turned back to look at her, a smirk playing on the edges of his full lips as he moved back to her side. Catching up with her thoughts a little, she tilted her head and asked, “The question is: are you brave, or stupid?”

“Was it your intention to keep admirers at bay?” he asked smoothly as he clasped his hands behind his back, and his Antivan accent sent another shock of excitement down her spine. She hated Orlesians vehemently, but _Antivans_ …

“It was my intention to keep to myself,” she acknowledged, “but I could make an exception.” She wasn’t entirely sure _why_ she wanted to make an exception, but as she said the words, she realized that she meant them. Maybe she was just bored. Or maybe…

“Oh?” he responded softly, taking a deliberate step closer. “Is that so?”

_Oh, it’s very so_ , she thought, eyes flicking down towards his smiling lips. _Huh_. 

Turning away and looking back over the dance floor, trying to be _suave_ or something, she asked, “Have you ever been to the Winter Palace before?”

She saw him shake his head out of the corner of her eye. “No. This is my first time. Why?”

Red lips curled just beneath the edge of her mask as she looked back up at him. “It’s _not_ my first time,” she said quietly. “Would you like to see the Grand Library? Or the Royal Wing, perhaps?”

She couldn’t see his eyebrows, but the look he was giving her suggested that they were raised. “You do not want to dance, then?”

Kira hummed. “I’m in the mood to cause a little trouble, I think, if you’re up for it.”

His answering grin was positively wicked. “That depends—are you looking for an accomplice? Or for someone to blame?”

“An accomplice,” she assured. “Sneaking into restricted areas isn’t fun if you’re doing it all alone, after all.”

“An excellent point,” he agreed, laughing softly. “Lead the way.”

 

* * *

 

The fastest and easiest way into the Grand Library, save climbing straight up the lattice in the Guest Gardens, was through the entrance hall. Which was fine, except her friends were probably still in the Hall of Heroes, and if they caught her wandering off with some random guy, she’d probably be in for the lecture of a lifetime.

She would deserve it, of course, since masquerades at the Winter Palace have, historically, been the site of many, _many_ assassinations over the years. But, she was a Grey Warden, and she was sure she could handle herself against one man—probably could handle herself against _several_ men if she had to.

She made him walk on her left as they left the ballroom, hand hooked around his elbow as she did her best to hide herself behind him. He was so skinny, it didn’t work _all_ that well, but by the time they were near the stairs that led to the library, they had yet to be stopped by anyone that she knew. It was nice, she thought as they slowed to a stop near the windows next to the stairs, that because of her mask, people couldn’t necessarily tell what she was looking at, or who she was.

“Okay,” she began softly, turning to face him and pretending to straighten his jacket, “there are two guards in front of the library, and another two in front of the entrance to the Royal Wing. We’ll need to get rid of both pairs.”

“You are not suggesting murder, I assume,” he responded, smiling a little to show he was joking.

She grinned and shook her head. “No, but we are going to cause some trouble.” Using her vantage point to look over his shoulder at the crowd, she spotted her first target. Two women were standing near each other near one of the statues, not speaking, but close enough that they could easily overhear each other’s conversations. She recognized them—they had a ‘frenemy’ relationship, last she checked. Kira patted his jacket and smiled as she brushed past him. 

“Watch this.”

Carefully, she and her ‘date’ made their way towards the women, and Kira made sure she was close enough to be heard, but not so close that either of them would notice her.

“…And my boyfriend was texting her! I caught him, can you believe it?” gasped the woman in purple—Marcela, was it?

Kira shook her head a little and tried to listen for the other woman’s voice. She was talking to a man only a few feet away—something about a movie—and Kira closed her eyes, trying to get a feel for the exact lilt and tone of her voice. Tugging on the man in the bird mask’s arm to move him in front of her, she hid herself from sight, smiling up at him as she began to speak in a breathy, near perfect imitation of her voice, “And Marcela’s boyfriend? Antonio? _Oh_ , he is so good with his tongue, I could not walk for—.”

She cut off when Marcela whirled on the spot and gasped, “ _Francine!_ ”

Kira snickered quietly into her hand as the women began to fight, grabbing her stranger’s hand and leading him away as a crowd began to gather. The guards at the top of the stairs came down quickly, prepared to stop the fight, and Kira saw another opportunity. Moving to the side just slightly, one of the guardsmen barreled right into her, gasping and haphazardly righting her with a string of Orlesian apologies as he rushed off to break up the fight. 

“Are you alright?” asked her masked friend , concern leaking into his voice.

She didn’t answer, instead choosing to grin and hold up the key she’d grabbed off the guard’s belt. 

“Oh, you are _bad_ ,” he said, smiling, voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Really?” she asked, brushing the compliment off, shooting a glance over at the guards as she began to push him up the stairs. “I think I’m actually rather good, myself.”

That made him laugh again, and she thought that she really quite liked his laugh. She’d have to try and make him laugh some more before they inevitably parted ways forever. It took her a second too long to get the key in the lock, fumbling with excited fingers as his hand pressed into her lower back, and they had to rush through the door, slamming it shut just as the guards reappeared at the bottom of the stairs. He leaned against the door, laughing softly, but she pulled him along, away from the door and behind some bookcases—just in case the guards thought something was odd.

He let her keep hold of his hand as they walked, and she swung their linked hands between them idly as she peeked curiously over the balcony at the party below.

“Oh, _now_ they start playing good music,” she complained quietly as a familiar song faintly filled the air.

He sniffed distastefully. “You like Orlesian pop?”

“I like this artist,” she clarified. “And a few others.”

He hummed, bumping his shoulder against hers. “I prefer Antivan music.”

Kira snorted as they approached another set of stairs. She hadn’t had any plans when she asked him to sneak around with her, but now that they were close to the next room, she realized what it was she actually wanted to do. “Of course you do,” she replied. “I don’t know much Antivan stuff myself.”

With a chuckle, he tugged sharply on her hand, sending her stumbling into his arms. “Shall I sing to you, my dear?”

She didn’t really hear him through the sudden rushing of her pulse in her ears. Up this close and in the dark part of the library now, his eyes were practically glowing under his mask. She opened her mouth to tell him no thanks, and what fell out instead was, “You’re an elf!”

He laughed, a little too loudly, tossing his head back in mirth. “You have only just now noticed? Did the ears not give me away?

Kira flushed under her mask, pushing him away and straightening her dress. “I—well, I _saw_ them, but I didn’t really register them, I guess? It’s always the eyes that get me, for some reason,” she rambled, looking away and drifting up a few stairs. “My roommate is an elf and she’s got these beautiful silver eyes that are _absolutely terrifying_ in the middle of the night when she pokes me to tell me the wifi is out, or to ask if I want to go get some fast food.”

He didn’t answer, which was fine, because she’d finally pushed the door open into the next room.

The six urns that she remembered still stood in two neat rows in the middle of the room, tall and completely out of place in the middle of a library. 

“Did you know,” she began, walking over to the far corner bookcase, “the Winter Palace has secret passageways?”

“Why? Are you about to show me one?”

She laughed and, hoping that she wasn’t about to make a fool of herself, pulled on one of the books. The wall beside her slid open and the two of them both peered curiously into the room beyond it. Everything was just as she remembered, including the veilfire on the wall. 

As she continued into the room, picking up a torch and lighting it, he sighed quietly and said, “So…you really did want to snoop, then.”

She smirked, pausing near the desk. “What, did you think I brought you up here so I could blow you in the restricted section of the library?”

He laughed, unabashed, and shrugged. “ _Well_ …”

Kira giggled as she brushed past him, back into the room with the urns. She’d almost cracked this puzzle once, years ago now, with her cousin. It was one of the few good memories she had of this place—a night when she and her cousin had gotten along, there were no names called, Kira got to be out of those awful pinchy shoes for most of the night. Of course, they were in a _lot_ of trouble when someone finally found them, after they’d scaled the lattice, broken into the library, and very nearly solved this fire puzzle, but it had been fun.

She lit them in the order she remembered, starting on the right side of the room and moving away from the door to the gardens. From there, she vaguely recalled that the other urn closest to the gardens had been the next correct option, but…no, that was too easy.

Wasn’t it?

Kira lit the next two urns in the same order as she’d done the other side and, lo and behold, the floor opened underneath one of the rugs. Biting her lip to keep from grinning smugly, she shot a look at her masked companion, meeting his shocked gaze with a laugh. Together, they walked around to the front of the opening, staring down a flight of stairs that simply descended into darkness.

“Come on, stranger,” she said after a beat, nudging him with her elbow. “I’ve been wondering what’s down there since I was a kid.”

He did nothing but chuckle as he followed her down into the dark, the only light coming from the green fire she held. 

Now, Kira wasn’t afraid of the _dark_ , per se. She’d describe it more as a fear of the possible existence of spiders somewhere in the dark—a fear that had her clinging to his sleeve like a frightened child, even though she’d been the one to suggest _all_ of this. Rather than shrug her off, he slid his arm around her waist, tucking her into his side just as they finally reached the bottom of the stairs.

Much to her disappointment, the room was empty. It must have been emptied out ages ago, everything valuable moved to a safe in the capital, or maybe to a museum.

She sighed heavily, lowering her torch arm a little. 

“Well, I suppose I should’ve expected this.”

“What were you hoping to find?” he asked quietly.

Kira shrugged. “Dunno. I guess I just sort of built this fantasy of finding long lost treasure or something.” Sighing again, she looked up at him, finding him grinning down at her. “What do you want to do now? It’s only fair that you get to pick next, since I dragged you all the way here.”

He nodded thoughtfully, looking away. “Are you still opposed to a dance?”

His arm was strong where he still had it around her waist, his body heat seeping into her skin in the chill of the basement. This whole night was turning out to be a lot different than she’d expected—truthfully, though, she hadn’t been expecting much. She hadn’t had so much fun at a noble event in years, and she owed that to him, didn’t she? If he hadn’t approached her, she’d have stood and stared at the ballroom floor until the party was over. 

What was the worst that could happen?

Smiling, she tilted her head and said, “I suppose I could make another exception. Just for you.”

His answering smile turned his eyes molten, and her stomach flipped excitedly. “Perfect.”

 

* * *

 

They were playing a waltz again, as they walked back into the library.

He bowed when they slowed to a stop, taking her hand and kissing the back of it gently. When he straightened up, he reeled her in, pulling her close, one hand holding hers and the other pressing firmly into her lower back. His eyes drifted across her mask as he held her, pausing on what small part of her red painted lips he could see almost contemplatively. She was new to this game they were playing, this flirtatious dance, sparked by the anonymity provided by the Grand Masquerade.  She found she actually quite liked it.

“Are you ready?” asked the masked man softly.

Smirking, she raised her chin with confidence that she wasn’t really used to having, and murmured, “ _Allons danser.”_ She paused thoughtfully, before grinning and adding, “Bird Man.”

Her companion laughed warmly at that as they began to dance, falling in to step to a dance they both knew well. There were no other dancers up in the library, but as she twirled, she could almost see the other dancers, the dresses, the glittering glare of the lights. She felt much more grand and powerful than she could ever remember feeling in a gown, and Maker’s breath was it nice. It almost made her understand the intrigue of The Game and these extravagant events.

Almost.

They danced for a long while, until the music switched back to modern music. When he spun her back into him, she ended up with her back to his chest, both of his hands grasping handfuls of the silky fabric at her hips. His breath was hot on her neck, lips brushing but not pressing as her hands covered his on her hips. Somewhere in the palace, a clock chimed midnight.

“The party is almost over,” she murmured, breath hitching when he pressed a soft, barely there kiss to her neck.

He hummed, kissing that spot again before dragging his teeth lightly against her skin. “Yes, but the night is still young, my dear.”

A little bit bewitched, Kira willingly turned in his arms, letting him walk her backwards until her back hit a wall. Gloved fingers pressed gently on her chin, tilting her head to give him a better angle to press a few more kisses to her pulse point. The skill with which his hands wandered and his kisses lingered spoke of experience, and if she were anyone else, it might have been tempting enough to have her going home with him (which was obviously where this was leading).

But she wasn’t anyone else. 

His lips were on her cheek now, and he gently lifted her mask just a little, leaning in, breath washing over her lips and—she turned her head and his full lips landed softly on her cheek again.

“Ooh, you’re good at this,” she breathed, afraid that if she spoke any louder she’d give herself away by being hoarse or something. Gently, she pressed her hands to his chest, pushing him back a few inches so she could look up and meet his eyes. He was frowning a little and she grinned. “Unfortunately for you, Bird Man, I don’t really roll that way.”

He leaned away completely as she reached for her handbag, only vaguely registering the text she had from Nadia saying that it was time to leave as she pulled out the tiny notebook her mother had insisted that she always carry. It didn’t serve much of a purpose, except at times like this.

‘ _You never know, dear_ ,’ her mother had said.

Funny, that that phrase and the stupid habit would both come in handy on the same night.

As she was scribbling down her number, he seemed to somewhat recover from his shock at being turned down.

“Don’t really roll… _what_ way, exactly?” he asked.

“The one night stand way,” she replied easily, voice back to normal now as she slipped the piece of paper into his gloved hand. “Tell you what, though. I’ve had a really good time tonight and, if you want, you should give me a call sometime. Or, well, actually, shoot me a text—I don’t like talking on the phone all that much.”

He still looked a little dazed, even with that feathery mask covering most of his place, and it delighted her. Feeling just the slightest bit wicked, she lifted her mask a little and pressed a kiss to his cheek firmly, leaving a perfect mark in her place, right over the edge of what looked like a tattoo. 

Huh.

Mentally shrugging it off, because he probably wasn’t Dalish, she patted his cheek and stepped away with a smile. “Thanks for a lovely evening, yeah? I had a lot more fun than I thought I would.”

And then she left, afraid that if she hung around too long he’d somehow manage to convince her to leave with him anyway. She knew the guards would still be outside of the library as she walked, but the party was over, and honestly? If she got banned from the Winter Palace forever, it wouldn’t be a tragedy.

Pausing with her hand on the doorknob, she cast a glance back at her mystery date, and smiled when she found him looking down at her phone number and touching his cheek lightly where she’d kissed him. 

_Good_ , she thought. _At least I had an effect on him, too_.

 

* * *

 

He was surprised, to say the least, when she didn’t show up to the party in armor. 

He’d had a difficult task ahead of him, getting close enough to her to poison her. While his usual course of assassination involved seduction, one final night of passion before he killed them in whatever way he saw fit, he hadn’t originally planned on doing that, considering it would probably have caused a stir if a Grey Warden was seen leaving the party with some random elf.

But then she’d stepped onto the red carpet, a vision in red and gold, and his plans became that much easier. Luring away another party guest in a mask would be easy, he thought, even if she already walked the carpet. He had a special poison for her—a rare Crow poison that took several days to truly kick in. He’d be long gone by the time she dropped dead, and nobody would even think to connect him or anyone else to her death. It would be marked off as something spontaneous, a tragedy of fate and nothing more.

He hadn’t expected her to be _quite_ so easy to isolate, however. 

She’d been the one to suggest wandering off with him, mischief gleaming in her eyes beneath her dragon skull mask. He was actually impressed at the way she managed to cause contained havoc, too, and the way she pick-pocketed the guard as he ran past.

When he’d been given this contract, and when he’d begun looking into her, he’d expected someone more— _well-behaved_ almost. A woman who grew up in the lap of luxury, who knew exactly which fork to use when, who had never played a practical joke in her life, and had never even considered actually breaking the rules. 

Instead, she made him laugh, sneaking around and snooping through secret passageways and hidden rooms. She was cheeky, and fun, and as they danced he could already see her tumbling back into his sheets, giggling as he kissed her breathless. 

But then…

“Unfortunately for you, Bird Man, I don’t really roll that way.”

She pushed him away gently and gave him her number, kissing him on the cheek as she bid him goodnight. Zevran was awestruck and confused. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d tried seducing someone and _not_ ended up with them in his bed—this was… _weird_. All wrong. 

By the time he managed to get a grip and stop staring dumbfounded at the piece of paper, she was gone.

For the first time in years, Zevran had let his target slip right through his fingers.

He had _failed_.

No, that wasn’t right. Focusing on the number again, he tilted his head thoughtfully. Maybe he’d failed tonight, but now he had a way to contact her. He could still get the job done, eventually. 

It would just take a little longer than he’d expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kira's outfit is [this mask](https://www.etsy.com/listing/157349906/red-dragon?utm_source=Pinterest&utm_medium=PageTools&utm_campaign=Share) and [this dress](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/40/44/a7/4044a7f667d6cdbdaae57207f2d57b38.jpg)
> 
> Zevran is wearing something like [this mask](https://wanelo.co/p/1478247/made-to-order-mormont-s-raven-leather-cosplay-mask-game-of-thrones-inspired)
> 
> EDIT: tfw u fucking realize Mahariel was never a clan and everything you've written is wrong (◕‿◕)


	2. Bird Man

Zevran didn’t go to sleep until late that night, trying to figure out how exactly he managed to let her get away. 

Maybe he should have been upfront with her, once they were alone. Told her that her time was limited, but that he’d make it fun if she wanted. 

But that wouldn’t have worked, and he knew it. The moment he said that he was going to kill her, she’d have fought him. Dress or no, she was still a Grey Warden, still a threat even without a weapon. There was no way he would have gotten out of there with her, or even gotten away from her. She’d have detained him and called the police and he would have failed even harder than he ended up failing.

But he had her number. He could contact her, and get her alone again soon, if he played his cards right.

He waited until later in the day to test out the number, hoping to catch her when she was awake—if she’d even given him the correct number, that was. Laying diagonally across his hotel bed, he watched the message send with some sort of odd feeling in his stomach that almost felt like excitement. 

Hmm. 

—xxx-xxx-9022 12:33 pm  
_Hello?_  

They answered him almost immediately, though they hesitated, and he watched the little dots pop up and disappear several times before they actually sent their message.

—xxx-xxx-5404 12:35 pm  
_Who is this?_  

—xxx-xxx-9022 12:36 pm  
_ Apologies. I might have the wrong number. Were you, by chance, at the Winter Palace last night? _

He had the strangest feeling he’d been tricked, and that she’d either given him a fake number or a random one, until the person he was texting responded almost immediately.

—xxx-xxx-5404 12:36 pm  
_!!!! Bird Man??  
_ _ I didn’t think you’d text!! _

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, unbidden. That ridiculous nickname she’d given him—there was no way this wasn’t Kira.

Still, better safe than sorry.

—xxx-xxx-9022 12:37 pm  
_;)_  
_ To be entirely honest, I did not think you gave me the correct number  
Unless…_

 —xxx-xxx-5404 12:39 pm  
_[Attachment: 1 image]  
__This proof enough for you? Doesn’t look quite as striking with bedhead bUT_  

He grinned at the picture she’d sent—apparently she had yet to get out of bed as well. Dark hair strewn across her pillow, the mask he remembered laying on her face as she bit her lip and held up two fingers in a peace sign. He chuckled a little at her fuzzy pink polkadot pajamas.

He began to type when she sent something else.

_ But wait! How do I know that YOU are MY bird man?? There were lots of snotty rich guys with feathers on their faces last night after all _

Well, she had a point there. 

He took a picture similar to hers, holding his mask up in front of his face and grinning.

—12:41 pm  
_ [Attachment: 1 image]  
_ _ And I am not a “snotty rich guy” and am offended you would assume such _

—Kira Cousland 12:42 pm  
_You were at the Winter Palace what else could I possibly have assumed about you_  
_ I mean unless you were someones escort and got? Bored of them?? Or something? And for some reason decided that I looked like more fun??? Even though I wasn’t paying you????  
Also, do you have a tattoo on your face? Or did I just imagine that? _

Zevran huffed out a breath of laughter, fingers dancing across the screen to respond, and steadfastly ignoring the fact that he was impressed that she’d noticed the tattoo at all.

—12:43 pm  
_Doing away with the game already are we?_  

—Kira Cousland 12:43 pm  
_;P  
__You do have my number. Did that not already break the intrigue?_  

—12:44 pm  
_ An excellent point!  
_ _ And if the phone number did not break it, I suppose the picture of your bedhead and polkadot pajamas did _ 

That apparently struck a nerve, and the typing animation popped up and disappeared several times before she finally responded.

—Kira Cousland 12:45 pm  
_Listen…my dude…my guy…I am on Vacation. Let me LIVE_  

He actually laughed at that, pushing himself up and leaning against the headboard as he grinned and typed his response.

—12:45 pm  
_They are very cute, my Dragon Queen ;) _  

—Kira Cousland 12:46 pm  
_shUT uP omg_  

Distantly, as he grinned at his phone screen, he realized that this was very bad. This was dangerous, and he needed to tread carefully to avoid messing things up. On the other hand, though, he needed to gain her trust, and if that meant pretending to befriend her, then so be it.

—12:48 pm  
_;)_  
_ You know, I did not catch your name, my dear._

She took a while to respond to that, and he wondered what her hesitance was.

—Kira Cousland 12:52 pm _  
You sure? Think real hard _

—12:52 pm  
_You did not ask mine either_  
_ Wait  
Have you saved me as “Bird Man” in your phone?_ 

—Kira Cousland 12:53 pm  
_ ;D  
Bird Man is not a bird brain I see _

Zevran shook his head. Two could play that game.

—12:54 pm  
_I see. You would not mind if I saved you under “Wily Temptress” then?_  

—Kira Cousland 12:54 pm  
_ ALRIGHT alright you win sheesh  
_ _ I’m Kira! You can make guesses at my last name from there. I’m sure you’ll get it right _

He waited for her to add something else, to ask his name or something, but she never did. She wasn’t even typing. Had he scared her off? Did she actually not want to break the mystery of anonymity?

—12:58 pm  
_Am I to tell you my name now? Or would you prefer to continue calling me by that terrible nickname? _  

—Kira Cousland 1:00 pm  
_I’d love to know your name but I don’t think I’ll be changing your contact details just yet ;P_  

—1:01 pm  
_As you wish then. I am Esteban Julio Ricardo Montoya De La Rosa Ramirez_  

—Kira Cousland 1:02 pm  
_Now listen here mister I gave you my real name. At least do me the courtesy of giving me pART of yours_  

Smiling a little, he debated briefly about telling her his name. It wasn’t as though she could look him up and trace him back to the Crows, but still. There were a lot of potential risks to worry about—namely if somehow the authorities did suspect foul play and they came after him.

Oh well. He’d deal with that if and when the problem arose.

—1:02 pm  
_;) ;)  
__Very well. I am Zevran. Zev to my friends_  

—Kira Cousland 1:03 pm  
_I feel like that’s a pretty name that I am absolutely butchering in my mind._  
_ Next time we see each other, I’m gonna need you to pronounce it for me.  
Unless we’re friends, in which case I will just call you Zev until I figure out the correct pronunciation of your full name _

—1:03 pm  
_ Will there be a next time? _ 

The typing animation popped up almost immediately, but it stopped and started a few times.

—Kira Cousland 1:05 pm  
_ Good question since I’m assuming you live in Antiva _

He glanced at his laptop screen, still open to the apartment hunting page he’d been looking at earlier. The Warden headquarters were in Denerim, so she probably lived there, and if _she_ lived there, then he would just have to move there. 

It wouldn’t be for long, anyway, surely.

—1:08 pm  
_Actually, I’m moving to Ferelden soon for work_  

—Kira Cousland 1:08 pm  
_!! No way!!  
__Which part of Ferelden??_  

—1:09 pm  
_Denerim_  

—Kira Cousland 1:09 pm  
_Dude, I can totally give you a tour or something when you get there?? If you want that is_  

Zevran tilted his head, smiling again. What an unexpectedly kind and generous offer. 

—1:10 pm  
_;) I may just take you up on that_  

—Kira Cousland 1:11 pm  
_^_^_  
_ Hey my friends and I are going out to see some sights soon so I gtg  
Thanks for texting! And not being a total creep!!! I’ll talk to you later!_

He laughed at that, even as unease settled into his stomach. He’d never had to actually do anything like this before to get at a target, and while he knew a few Crows who used such tactics, he had never tried it himself. It seemed like it could get rather messy, honestly, but what choice did he have?

Letting out a slow, even breath, he set his phone aside and picked up his laptop to continue apartment hunting. He still had a few days before anyone would notice that he hadn’t gotten to poison her, so as long as he had a plan by then, he’d probably be fine.

…Probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kinda iffy about the formatting, but another modern AU fic I really like uses this formatting for texts and I thought it flowed really well so!
> 
> Also if anyone knows how to make emojis show up on AO3 that would be grEAT


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